#seroa

Penelope danced around the opulent ballroom, the one her and her lovely husband Omar used to dance in all the time when Zain, Jaylen and Avon were younger. Her movements graceful and fluid like water, Omar right with her with his large hand on her waist and other hand holding hers. Omar has long since retired, Zain had taken over and had a son of his own, Jaylen having a daughter while Avon was off traveling the world for a while.

The room was brightened by the soft glow of the lights above, the gentle sound of their favorite song floating through the air like nostalgia itself decided to grace them with its presence. They had been at this for an hour now, dancing and holding each other close as if they couldn't let go of each other, which to literally everyone else? It was obvious they genuinely couldn't.

Two pairs of tiny feet padded quietly into the room, giggling to themselves as they did. Reid and Iris, Zain's little boy and Jaylen's little girl. The two littles watched in awe as their grandmother moved around the room, whispering to each other quietly, "papa always said that grandma pen danced really well" Reid murmured.

Iris nodded quietly, "mhm, she's even better than the stories." Penelope heard the little voices and smiled, pulling away from Omar and walking over to the little ones before kneeling down to their height. Omar smiled at his wife and grandchildren, eyes gentle and observant, heart melting like ice cream in his chest. 'My dears...' His deep voice rumbled in his own mind.

Penelope smiled gently, "You like the dance hm?" She smiled lovingly at her grandchildren, pulling them close and tucking one into her sides, they both nodded eagerly, "Mhm! I wanna learn to move like grandma, did grandpa teach you how to do that or are you self-taught?" Iris asked enthusiastically, Reid following up with: "Would you be willing to teach us?" Penelope smiled at the happy responses and nodded.

"Of course, dearies, I would love to teach you!" Her voice was soft yet still had that loving tone to her voice that used to soothe her children when they were Reid and Iris' age. Penelope stood and walked to the center of the dance floor before turning and walking to the center, the little ones trailing her like eager puppies. After a second though, Reid spoke up, his little voice gaining that lit of curiosity that always seemed to follow the little boy.

"Hey grandma...do you always dance alone?" he followed her movements as best he could without falling, Iris attempting to do the same. Penelope smiled, "no darlings, I used to have a lovely man who would kiss the grounds I walked upon if I let him..." Her smiled faltered for a second before softening on her lips.

"He still dances with me all the time, even if it's just in spirit" She murmured as she showed the little kids how to twirl, Iris giggled when she tried but ended up falling backwards with a quiet 'oof'. She glanced towards the corner and her eyes widened into a breathless surprise. There, in the corner, was a very tall man with disheveled white hair and red eyes that beamed with pride.

Omar roamed the quiet streets of Athens, Georgia with his wife Penelope, who was holding their five-year-old son Zain. It had been a long day, Omar had to deal with a couple problems that thought they could just steal money from him, the fuckin' audacity. Of course, that wouldn't stand, no one stole from the Seroas and got off scot free. Not without losing fingers and earning a few lacerations that'd leave them bleeding out for hours.

The wind of the autumn air danced softly through the bustling streets, Penelope's hum and Zain's soft coos of awe at the sights were a soothing balm to the man's soul. The blood from his session was washed off physically, but it was still there. Omar was lost in thought, 'No wonder people say "there's blood on your hands" even when they're squeaky clean' Omar glanced at his wife and child, smiling subtly, though softly in a way only they were able to see.

He glanced down at Penelope's belly, the slight swell of a second child, a baby girl, growing inside of the woman he'd gladly burn the world down for. Penelope looked up at him and blushed, "you're doing it again baby," she giggled, "you're staring." The tease snapped him out of the stupor and he rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around her and gently holding the curve of her waist. She always fit so perfectly against him despite the massive size difference, his towering 7'0" and her shorter 5'9" frame.

He looked at Zain; the boy was a spitting image of his father just more...innocent. Omar scooped the small boy up, earning a giggle fit of happiness. Today had been peaceful despite the incident earlier, his family will always make his days brighter. The peace hadn't lasted much longer however, the sound of quiet hissing and softer whimpers echoed from a nearby alleyway. Omar's brows furrowing with concern but also a dangerous spark.

He stopped walking, glancing around before his gaze landed on the mouth of an alley across the street, that's where the voices were coming from. Zain tugged at his suit jacket with a small whimper, "papa...what is that noise?" Penelope cooed at the boy softly, Omar allowed her to take him from his arms as he shifted to hid them from sight of the alley.

"Go," he mumbled, hand drifting to his waistband subconsciously, "get into the café and stay away from the windows." His voice was serious, commanding with that protective lit that never failed to make Penelope worry for her husband's life. But she trusted him, so she did as he said and took Zain into the nearby café, getting away from the windows. Omar listened as she started ordering a water for her and a small piece of cake for Zain as a reward for doing amazing at the ultrasound appointment.

Once Omar was sure they were safe, he turned and crossed the road swiftly, pressing his back to the wall as the noises got louder. He could hear words, a man, angry by the sounds of it, and a woman, but there was also...whining? Not a human whine, a sort of canine-like whine. It confused him, he hadn't heard any barking but that didn't matter, a woman was in trouble, and he needed to step in.

The gun hissed softly as he slowly pulled it from the holster, gripping it and flipping the safety off. He glanced in and what he saw wasn't what he had expected. A man, beating a child...but she wasn't just a child, she was a Demi-Human. They were still quite rare but slowly growing in population as time goes on, no one is quite sure how they came to exist, most believe they hid from society out of fear

But this one? God she was just a child. She looked around Zain's age, but the man, fuck he looked angry. Possibly drunk? No. His movements too steady, words too venomously spat like he was reciting a poem. "You're just a little mutt." The man growled, unaware of the audience right outside the alleyway. The back of his hand cracked against the girl's face, the ring in his hand splitting her bottom lip open as she crashed into the ground.

The little girl had dulled blue hair with matching blue ears poking from her head, a small dulled blue tail tucked so tightly to her little body it was almost impossible to see at first. Rage boiled Omar's blood until he was basically seeing red, but he didn't go out. Not yet. He wants to watch this man make his bed before Omar makes him lie in it for this. The little girl sobbed, cheek swelling as she crawled away from the man.

"p-please!" Her voice small, terrified and pleading but the man wasn't listening. He stepped forward and sank his fingers into her hair, yanking her until a few strands came loose. "You're just gonna grow up to be a little whore ain't ya, you little slut?" He hissed, his other hand coming up to grip her cheeks so hard bruises began to form almost immediately. Omar has seen enough.

He steps forward quietly, but the man heard and turned around, eyes widening at the sight of the Mafia man who was notorious for brutal torture to those who are deemed sinners in his eyes. "S..shit uh...listen man I can expl-" he wasn't allowed to speak anymore, Omar's hand shot out and wrapped around the man's throat until he released the little Demi. Omar just stared at the man, no...not a man. Men don't hurt children or call them horrific names like slut or whore.

"I should kill you...put a bullet straight through your head for this." Omar spoke calmly, and that only made the man more fearful. The man swallowed thickly against the Omar's hand, his own scrabbling for purchase to get Omar's grip to loosen, "please...man she was just being a little bitch, can't take a punishment!" He tried to justify as if that makes it any better. News flash? It didn't. Omar simply scoffed at the man's incompetent nature.

"Punishment? I see..." He holstered his gun, the little girl letting out quiet whimpers thinking this strange man with piercing red eyes and snow-white hair was gonna let her abuser go. Instead, however, Omar pulled a blade out, dragging across the man's bottom lip and tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey. Omar moved his hand from the man's throat to his jaw, forcing his mouth open and pinning the man with his knee to the wall.

"This...is what happens to people like you who can't keep their mouths shut when it would benefit them..." His voice had darkened, the man's face paling as Omar pulled the man's tongue out. He looked at the little girl; poor thing was horrified. "Go to the café across the street sweetheart, you'll see a beautiful woman with a little boy around your age, tell them Mr. Seroa sent you alright?"

The little girl nodded and immediately bolted out of the alleyway without any hesitation. Omar turned his attention back to the man, who was now sobbing, snot dripping down his nose and tears making his eyes swell and redden with pleas that landed on deaf ears. The movement was swift and precise, the man's tongue landing on the ground as blood squirted from the man's mouth.

He tried to scream but it came out muffled from not having his tongue, but also his hands over his mouth. Blood seeped through his fingers, but Omar wasn't done with the man. He made a phone call and not even five minutes later a car pulled up, three men exited the passenger and back seats of the car in black masks that had splashes of red on them. Omar tossed the man towards the three mens feet. "Handle him. Make sure he isn't missed."

The command in his tone was dark, leaving no room for argument as the three masked men dragged the sobbing man into the trunk of the car, Omar didn't spare another glance as he walked to the café where he spotted his wife and son were with the little Demi girl. Zain was the first to look up at Omar as he entered, he had given his ice cream to her without hesitation while Penelope was gently dabbing her split bottom lip to stem the bleeding.

Omar walked over and knelt down, Penelope looked at him with worry and a motherly instinct that always came naturally to her. It was what made her an amazing mother to begin with. She sighed, "Omar...we can't just put her in an orphanage." She murmured softly, her hand soothing where the man had gripped the little girl's hair too tightly.

Omar nodded, slowly reaching out to brush the little Demi's tears away, "What's your name sweetheart?" He asked softly, his tone so much gentler than when he was talking to the man, the little girl sniffled and shrugged her little shoulders a bit. Her voice was soft when she spoke, "I...i don't have a name..." She looked down as if ashamed of that fact.

Zain spoke up with a smile, "how about Zamera? You look like a Zamera!" His smile was one that said he was so proud of himself, he walked to the Demi and giggled as he took her in completely for the first time. The Demi smiles slightly, looking up at Omar, then Penelope before looking at Zain again, "I...I like that name...it's pretty." She murmurs softly. Omar smiled, nodding as he kissed her forehead right between the canine ears on top her head.